


Meeting Murder

by hilandmum



Category: Death in Paradise, Forever (TV), Midsomer Murders - All Media Types
Genre: Case Fic, Crossover, Gen, Misses Clause Challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-15
Updated: 2016-12-15
Packaged: 2018-09-08 19:43:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8858287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hilandmum/pseuds/hilandmum
Summary: When Richard Poole and Camille Bordey meet Henry Morgan and Jo Martinez at a conference where Tom Barnaby is a speaker, a trip to London turns into a bus-man's holiday for them all.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Traykor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Traykor/gifts).



> Traykor, you requested Midsomer Murders and Murder in Paradise, and I noticed you'd requested Forever for a previous Yuletide. You also suggested a meeting of sleuths. How could I resist? This story grew like Topsy into a long case fic. Hope you enjoy.

“Oh, sir, I almost forgot. This came for you this morning.” Camille handed a large buff-colored envelope to Richard before taking a seat behind her own desk at the Ste. Marie police station. “It looks important.” She watched as he stared at the return address, tapped the envelope and finally slit it open. The postmark and address implied it came from London, but she hadn’t recognized the organization that sent it. 

Richard pulled out a thick rectangular card of the same color as the envelope. He frowned as he read it. When he looked up and caught her eyes, he tossed it aside. “I’ve been invited to a conference, but I’m not going.”

“Why not? Haven’t you wanted to return to London ever since you arrived here?” She smirked at him. “I would think you’d jump at this chance.”

Dwayne entered the office and slammed his hat on his desk. “I’m tired of chasin’ down chicken thieves, but that’s all we’ve had to do lately.”

Richard glanced at Camille before addressing the sergeant. “How’d you like to be in charge for a few days?”

“What? Who, me?” He held up both hands palm towards his boss and shook his head. “Uh-uh, not me.” He blinked. “Where are you going? What about Camille?”

“I’m off to a conference in ten days, and Camille’s agreed to come with me.”

“I have?” Camille’s smirk morphed into a wide-eyed gasp.

“This is your chance to see London.”

#

The bell over the door to the shop tinkled as Jo entered.

A grin spread on Abe’s face. “Looking for Henry? He’s down in the basement.”

“Figures.” She knew the way. Her feet clattered down the steps. She found Henry bent over his work table, examining a weapon she’d never seen before. 

Seeing her, he put it down and removed the nitrile gloves on his hands. “Good morning.”

“Morning yourself. I need to pick your brain.”

“Pick away.”

“I’ve been invited to a conference in London. Henry, I’ve never left New York. But you know everything about the city across the pond.”

He shook his head. “I haven’t lived in London for years.” Henry’s eyes focused on a distant point and he shuddered. “It’s likely changed since I was last there. At least sixty years ago.”

“Oh. Of course.” She frowned.

“What kind of conference?” Henry’s interest was genuine.

She waved a large, buff-colored card before handing it to him to peruse. “Seems to be for police personnel from all over the world.”

Henry smiled. “I remember a meeting I attended there like that. A long time ago. Must have been before the turn of the century. Nineteenth to twentieth, that is. One of the first, I believe, on the pathology of crimes. Doctors, medical examiners and coppers, from all over, convening to discuss the latest methods of detection.”

Jo smiled and sat on the only nearby clean surface, a small stool. She listened as he reminisced.

“There was a couple from the provinces, Toronto I believe. She was the M.E. and he was a detective. Between them they’d come up with some very advanced means.” He nodded. “I hadn’t thought about them in quite some time. Murdoch, I remember the chaps name was. William Murdoch, and the woman was Doctor Ogden. Julia Ogden, I believe. So many of the new techniques they used became standard procedure. I wonder whatever happened to them.”

“Never heard of them.”

He shrugged. “Yes, well, I’m not surprised.”

“You’ll come with me, won’t you?”

“To London?” He sat on the edge of the table. “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.”

“Going with me or going back to London? No one’s left to recognize you, you know.” She tilted her head.

Abe appeared at the bottom of the stairs. “What are you afraid of? Go on, go with Jo.”

“Abraham, it’s not that simple.”

“Oh, go, already.”

#

“Are you sure it’s all right for me to go fishing with Colin next weekend?” Tom put his empty teacup in the saucer.

“Of course.” Joyce collected it and put it in the sink with the rest of the breakfast dishes. “The post’s come. There’s something for you. I don’t recognize the return address.”

He turned the envelope over and over in his hands before opening it. “Well, what do you know? It’s an invitation to speak at a police conference in London in a fortnight.”

“You’ll go, of course.” She smiled and reached up to smooth his collar.

“I’m not sure.” He shrugged. “What would I say? It’s been years since I was on the force.”

“They wouldn’t have invited you if they didn’t want you to share your knowledge and experiences.”

He grinned at her. “You want me to go so you can come along, spend a couple of days in town, and visit with our daughter.”

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen Cully.” 

“And you want to take her shopping.” He sighed. “All right. I’ll ring the organizers and let them know I’m coming. Although, I still don’t know what I can tell these young chaps.”

#

Attendees and speakers began arriving at the venue for the conference the evening before it started. The two-hundred-year-old hotel, across from Hyde Park was large enough to accommodate all three hundred of them, as well as any accompanying guests. Conference rooms on the ground floor would all be used, gladdening the heart of the hotel owner, Vincent Langley, as well as the manager, Charlotte Enfield. Both envisioned full use of the dining room, bar, even the snug that usually saw only a few locals stopping in for a quick one. The registration desk and bellhops were busy checking in guests and taking them to their assigned rooms. 

Jo and Henry stopped to admire the polished wood paneled lobby and the marble floors before they took the elevators up to the seventh floor.

“Elevators were installed about fifty years ago,” their talkative bellhop, Alfie, informed them. “Afore that, the guests and the staff had to use the stairs.”

Henry remembered being in the hotel once before. He’d been called in to tend to an ill guest who’d imbibed too much alcohol along with a seven-course meal. He hoped he wouldn’t be called upon again at the conference.

#

Jordan Marcum, who’d arranged the meeting, made a point to be at the reception desk whenever one of the speakers arrived. The tall, thin young man was particularly eager to meet Chief Inspector Thomas Barnaby, as his cousin Paulette spoke well of him. So he was there to greet Tom and Joyce as they registered. “Such a pleasure.” He beamed and shook their hands rather energetically. “We’ve put you on the top floor where you’ll have a glorious view of Hyde Park.”

“Thank you for the invitation, and for making the arrangements.” Tom’s smile wasn’t as broad.

“I’m sure the accommodations will be perfect.” Joyce’s eyes twinkled.

But Marcum had spied another of the guest speakers arriving and took two quick steps away.

“Interesting fellow,” Tom said. 

Joyce smirked. “He’s trying too hard.”

A bellhop led them to the elevator and went up with them to the eighth floor.

#

Richard and Camille didn’t arrive until later that evening, after most of the other guests had settled in their rooms and then descended for dinner in the hotel restaurant or some place nearby. A lone man stood behind the registration desk, checking to see who had a reservation but hadn’t arrived yet.

“You should have two rooms for Richard Poole and Camille Bourdey.” Their flights to New York and then on to London had been delayed by a storm, and they were both out of sorts.

The man, Sid Manetti, scanned his list. “Are you sure you made a reservation?”

DI Poole started to round the end of the desk to scan the list, but the clerk raised one eyebrow, sending him back to stand next to Camille. “We made the reservations when we registered for the meeting. Perhaps the chap in charge knows what happened.”

“I’m afraid he’s gone for the day, sir.”

“May I see your list?” Camille asked with a smile that, along with her French accent, seemed to fluster the young man. 

“Oh, yes, yes, of course. Perhaps...” He handed the list to her.

She laughed. “I see the problem. You have us listed as Camille Poole and Richard Bourdey.”

“Ah. Yes, of course. I’ll correct that immediately and get your keys. I think there’s one bellhop still available to take you to your rooms.” He called Alfie over.

Before long they were being taken up to their rooms on the seventh floor, across from each other. A man and woman rode up in the elevator with them. 

“Here for the conference?” Camille asked.

The woman nodded and said in a distinctly American accent, “Actually, I am. My friend Henry came along to show me the sights of London.”

The woman’s room was next to Camille’s, the man’s next to Richard’s.


	2. Chapter 2

In the morning, Henry, in his usual suit and tie, knocked on Jo’s door and called, “Ready for breakfast? There’s a buffet spread downstairs for the meeting attendees.”

She came out, dressed in navy slacks and a pale blue shirt, carrying a navy jacket. The man and woman they’d met late the night before exited their rooms about the same time, so the four took the elevator down together.

Jo introduced herself and Henry. The other two were inspectors from a small island in the Caribbean she’d never heard of. The man’s accent was not unlike Henry’s, but the woman’s sounded much more French, which wasn’t unexpected since the island had belonged to France before the British took over.

The dining room was full of conference guests, but no one Henry or Jo knew. They joined the queue for food along with Richard and Camille. But before they had a chance to select from the overwhelming variety of dishes, a flustered man entered the room, whispered to the restaurant manager, who followed him out. With puzzled expressions on their faces, all four watched the two men go.

They found a table for four and continued to become acquainted. 

“Is this your first time in London?” Camille asked Jo.

“Yes.” Jo sipped her coffee, frowned and pushed it away.

Henry laughed. “Guess the Brits still haven’t discovered how to make the stuff.” He drank his own tea.

“When were you last here?” Richard asked him.

“Oh, a long time ago.” Henry’s reply was consciously vague. “I’ve lived in New York for what seems like ages. And you?”

“A couple of years.”

“Richard wanted to return almost immediately, but he seems to have changed his mind.” A mischievous smile crossed Camille’s lips. 

Richard studied her, but didn’t comment. 

An impeccably dressed woman entered and rapped on a table for attention. “Hello, everyone. I’m Charlotte Enfield, the manager of this hotel. We’ve had a slight change in our schedule for today. I’ll be giving a short welcoming address at ten in the Sheffield Room instead of Mr. Marcum, and then we will immediately start our program of speakers. All talks scheduled for the Oxford Room will take place in this room instead. Thank you all for your cooperation.”

Richard’s eyes narrowed. “I wonder what all that’s about.”

“Nothing good, I’m sure.” Henry looked around the room.

“How do we find out?” Jo asked.

“It must have something to do with Marcum,” Henry said. “Did you meet him when you checked in?”

Richard shook his head. “By the time we arrived, only a skeleton staff was present. Did you?”

“Someone pointed him out to us.” Jo tapped a finger on the table. “My guess is he’s gone, voluntarily or not, and they’re covering for the fact.”

Camille’s brow furrowed. “But then, why are they moving talks from the Oxford Room?” 

“I wonder if they realize that a hotel full of investigators of various kinds won’t ignore what’s happening. We’re all quite curious people.” Henry pointed to the other tables, the heads bent toward each other, the speculative looks on the faces they could see.

“Hopefully they’ll reveal more when Miss Enfield addresses us.”

“I hope she asks for help – she’s certain to get lots of it.” Henry rubbed his forehead.

They finished their food and went in search of the Sheffield room. It was already more than half-full. The buzz of conversation sounded urgent. They took four seats together in a row more than half-way to the back of the room.

Miss Enfield took the podium and called for attention. The last attendees took seats or stood along the sides. “Welcome, police and inspectors. We hope we can make your conference a beneficial experience for you all. We have a series of speakers and panels arranged in four parallel series over each day, so you should find many talks to attend. Your registration packets include the schedule. I’ll repeat what I said earlier, those talks scheduled for the Oxford Room have been transferred to the hotel dining room.” She strode away without taking questions.

Henry, Jo, Richard and Camille exchanged glances. 

“I’m not officially an attendee,” Henry said. “Let me take a look around while the three of you attend lectures. Perhaps I can find out what happened to Marcum and in the Oxford Room.”

“As long as you tell us what you find,” Camille said.

“Of course.”

“Well, I want to hear what this former Chief Inspector Barnaby has to say.” Camille pointed to her copy of the schedule.

Richard read it. “Yes, that sounds interesting. Seems there was an inordinate amount of crime in his district of small towns.” 

Jo went with them, while Henry tried to find the Oxford Room. 

#

He found the right corridor. Two bobbies stood outside the room, batons in hand.

‘What are they guarding?’ Henry wondered. ‘What could be in there?’ He approached one of the guards. “Excuse me, my good man, what’s going on?”

“We’re not able to disclose that, sir.” The man faced him.

“What about Mr. Marcum?” It was a vague enough question.

“I’m afraid...”

But he was interrupted by the arrival of two plainclothes inspectors who showed credentials and athe guards opened the doors to the room. Before they could enter, they had to stepped out of the way so two more men could wheel out a gurney holding a body covered by a white sheet.

“Something tells me that’s the dearly departed Mr. Marcum,” Henry muttered to himself. He followed the gurney out to a waiting coroner’s van. 

The men loaded the gurney in the back. Before they could join the body, Henry walked up to one. “Has the medical examiner released the body?”

“Nah, he wants another look see at the morgue. He was obviously shot. Shot and stabbed.” He scratched his head and got into the van then drove off. 

Henry watched them go, deep in thought.

#

DCI Barnaby completed his talk about his most interesting cases, pleased to be finished for the day. He might attend other talks, but he was curious about what Miss Enfield announced during breakfast and in her address afterward. He walked slowly to the doors at the back of the room, deciding what to do.

“Inspector, might I have a word?” a man stood in his path with a hand out to shake.

Tom raised his eyebrows then narrowed his eyes. “Do I know you?”

“Richard Poole. Formerly of the London police, but presently an inspector on the island of Sainte Marie.” The hand dropped to his side. 

“Ah.” Tom waited for him to go on but also took in the dark-haired woman, possibly hispanic, and the dark-skinned woman with him. 

“This is my Sergeant, Camille Bordey, and a member of New York’s finest, Jo Martinez. We wondered what you thought about the disappearance of Mr. Marcum, and the fact that the Oxford Room is now off limits.”

Tom grimaced. “I met Marcum last night. He was definitely trying too hard to be ingratiating, to make sure this conference ran smoothly.” Tom motioned to nearby chairs. “Why don’t we sit down and talk about this?”

“You should know a friend of mine offered to check out the Oxford Room while we attended your talk,” Jo said. “It was very entertaining by the way.”

“Ah, yes. Well, thank you.” A slight smile disappeared almost immediately. “Let’s hope he’ll have some news for us, then. It doesn’t seem likely the organizers will be keeping us informed.”

“Marcum was the organizer,” Camille reminded him. “Sir, we might have to take this investigation into our own hands.”

“I’m sure the London boys can handle it. No sense butting our heads in where they don’t belong.”

“But Inspector Barnaby...” Jo protested. 

“Let me know what your friend found out.” He rose. “Good day to you.” This time his smile remained on his face.

Camille frowned, and Jo’s shoulders slumped.

“He was no help at all.” Richard crossed his arms. “I suppose we should find Henry.”

They stood and walked out of the conference room together, and smack into Henry Morgan.

“Well?” Jo prompted.

“Marcum was killed. At least, I think it was Marcum they carried out of the Oxford Room. Said he’d been shot and stabbed, so I doubt it was suicide.”

“Hardly likely.” Richard cupped his chin. “You say they took him out of the room? I wonder what he was doing there.”

“Why would someone shoot and stab him?” Camille scratched her ear. “There are too many facts we don’t have, and no way to obtain them.”

“Inspector Poole, do you have any contacts in the London police?” Jo asked.

“Possibly. If they haven’t moved on as I have. What about you, Doctor?”

“Not for a very long time.”

Richard narrowed his eyes, but Henry didn’t elaborate. Instead, he led them to the Oxford Room. “Perhaps they’re finished with it, and we can have a look.”

But the area outside the room was crawling with teams of investigators.

“I wonder how they expect to keep this under wraps with all the activity. The other conference rooms are on the same corridor.” Jo spotted Miss Enfield talking to someone who looked official, although he wasn’t in uniform. “Miss Enfield, may we have a word?” She sprinted toward her.

“Watch out.” One of the techs held out an arm to prevent her from stepping anywhere near the doors to the room. “No one’s allowed in there.”

“I only want to speak with Miss Enfield.” Jo pointed to the hotel manager.

“Well, stay away from here.”

She walked around the area in front of the doors, glancing over to see whether they were open so she could see in, but they were closed. “Miss Enfield, may I have a word?”

The woman’s well-shaped eyebrows rose. “Is there a problem with any of the presentations?”

“Oh, no. They’ve been amazing. I’m so glad we came.”

“You’re from the States, right?”

“Yes. New York.”

“Well, I hope you enjoy the rest of the talks, but you’ll have to excuse me. I have...I have something else to deal with.”

“Yes, that’s why I wanted to talk to you. With all of the police presence, and I don’t mean attendees, I expect there’s been some kind of incident. In there.” She pointed to the Oxford Room.

“You needn’t concern yourself.” Enfield’s face matched her annoyed tone.

“Maybe not, but remember, you have experts from all over the world in this building,” Jo said. “Use them. Use us. We’ve investigated all sorts of crimes.” 

“I assure you, the local authorities have things well in hand.” She turned her back to Jo and walked away.

Jo sighed as she returned to where the others still stood.

“Well?” Henry asked. 

Jo shook her head.“She’s not talking, won’t even consider help from the conference attendees.”

“I wish there were a way to get into that room.” Camille narrowed her eyes.

“Whatever happened there, any evidence is long gone.”

“Perhaps not.” Camille removed her suit jacket exposing a sleeveless blouse and her dark brown arms. She patted her hair and marched toward one of the guards. “Excuse me, I’m looking for Mr. Marcum. There are some problems with the assignment of the speakers. We have two in one room at the same time.”

“I’m afraid Mr. Marcum had to leave. Miss Enfield has taken over for him.” He looked down the corridor. “I think she went in that direction.”

“Oh, dear. No one told me. Well, I need to get the master copy of the schedule. Marcum had it in there.” She pointed to the closed Oxford Room doors.

“You aren’t from around here, are you?”

“The hotel hires staff from the continent to impress guests, and Mr. Marcum thought I’d add a certain je ne sais quois for this conference.” She flashed her most engaging smile. “But I can’t do my job without his notes.”

“I’ll have to obtain permission from my superiors. Come back later, Miss.” His smile was brighter.

“Thank you so much!” She took his hand in both of hers. Kissing him on both cheeks would have been a bit too much. She chuckled to herself as she rejoined the others.

“Well?” Jo asked.

“He promised to get permission for me to retrieve some of Marcum’s papers from inside the room.”

“What papers?” Richard’s brow furrowed.

“Non-existent ones.” She winked. “Or maybe not.”

“Meanwhile, we should go to lunch. Who knows what gossip we can tap into?” Jo led the way to the hotel dining room where another lavish buffet awaited them. 

They filled their plates and looked around for a place to sit. Most of the tables were taken, but DCI Barnaby sat alone at one, so they descended on him.

“I hope you don’t mind if we join you.” Richard took a seat.

Tom studied the four of them. “I expect I couldn’t say no, and have you accept it. Still doing a bit of sleuthing?” His lips twitched.

“Marcum’s dead,” Henry said. “They removed his body from the Oxford Room and said he was a stabbed and shot.”

“And you are?” Tom’s eyebrows rose.

“Oh, sorry. I’m Henry Morgan.” He held out a hand, and Tom shook it. “I’m here with Detective Martinez.” He indicated Jo.

“So Marcum didn’t leave. He was murdered.”

“Yes, and we’re trying to learn more, but of course they won’t tell us anything. I offered our services to Miss Enfield. Not just ours.” Jo indicated the four of them. “Everyone here could help, but she refused.”

“I might get access to the room,” Camille said. “One of the guards offered to get me permission to enter.”

“I’m sure you gave him a good reason.” Richard frowned.

Camille nodded and grinned.

“Well, there aren’t any talks I want to attend this afternoon.” Tom rubbed the back of his head. “Suppose I try to call in some favors from the local constabulary?”

“Could you?” Richard said. “I have fewer connections than I had in the past.”

“It’s been a while for me as well.” Tom flashed a smile. “Mind you, I wasn’t part of London operations, just a DCI from Causton in the Midsomer region. But I might still have a contact or two who can get us information.”

The other four exchanged smiles.

“I don’t want to get your hopes up. Give me a half hour after lunch and I’ll see what I can find.”

“That’ll be wonderful, sir,” Camille said. “And meanwhile I’ll see whether I can get more from the guard.”

“Perhaps we should split up, each learn what we can and regroup before dinner,” Henry suggested. 

Tom nodded. “I promised my wife I’d have dinner with her and our daughter tonight, but if we can meet at, say, five, we’ll each have time to gather information.”

Once those arrangements were agreed upon, they each began to eat.

“Have you had any of this conch soup? It’s not as good as my mother’s.” Camille pushed the bowl away and took a bite of chicken instead.

“Camille’s mother runs a seaside restaurant and bar on Sainte Marie. Very popular with natives and tourists alike.” Richard turned to Henry. “If you’re not with the police, what do you do?”

Henry cleared his throat. “I’m an ME but I also do research on crime, especially the many ways people can die.”

Jo cut in before he could say more. “He’s acted as a consultant too. Henry’s an expert on weapons, particularly ancient ones.”

“And you have frequent need of such knowledge?” A hint of laughter touched Tom’s voice.

“Often enough,” she replied. 

“So that’s how you earn a living? New York is an expensive city.”

“I’m part owner of an antique store.”

“That’s something I didn’t expect,” Tom said.

“Oh, come now Inspector, what did you expect?”

“Oh, a professor, or maybe a doctor.”

A smile flitted across Henry’s lips. “Do I look like a doctor?” he asked with an exaggerated pretense of surprise.

Tom’s eyes narrowed.

Jo quickly changed the subject. “The sooner we go, the better.”

“Jo’s right.” Camille slipped her jacket back off. “We will meet back here at five.” She left in the direction of the Oxford Room. 

“Right.” Tom extracted his phone from his inside jacket pocket. “I’ll make some calls.”

The rest left him to it and split in various directions.


	3. Chapter 3

Camille approached the men guarding the room. The one she spoke to before grinned as she approached. “I have permission to let you enter, on the condition that I accompany you.”

“Of course.” She bestowed that smile again.

He pushed the door open and stood aside to allow her to enter first.

“Such a gentleman,” she teased with a wink, pleased to see him blush. Her gaze did a quick sweep of the room. The chalk outline told her where the body had been found and that he’d been on his left side.

Chairs still stood in neat rows facing a stage and podium. She strode to the podium and riffled through the papers on it, taking the stack with her to examine later. “These are what I wanted.” Nothing else in the room required her attention. “Thank you so much.” She grinned at the starry-eyed young copper.

“I finish here ‘bout six,” he called after her as she walked briskly away.

She didn’t bother to turn around, hoping she wouldn’t run into him again, and found an empty room where she could go through the pages. As she’d expected, they were filled with scribbled notes, but most didn’t belong to Marcum. Instead, they were an outline of a talk by Angus McLeod, an inspector from Glasgow. Two seemed to be diagrams of the conference rooms that might have been Marcum’s or Enfield’s.

McLeod’s lecture was filled with cases he claimed to have solved single-handedly. She wondered whether he’d been able to give it without his notes. She wasn’t about to give them to him, but she was glad she hadn’t attended his presentation. All that bravado.

The clock in the lobby indicated it was only three twenty. What could she do before she had to meet with the others? She shrugged. Might as well attend a talk or two. She checked the copy of the program in her pocket. A panel including inspectors from four European countries caught her eye. She stuffed her program and McLeod’s notes in her conference folder and set off to find the room.

#

Tom called a London Inspector he’d consulted in the past. He explained that he was attending the conference and hoped to help with the investigation ongoing at the venue.

“Strange thing that,” DI Colin Wyatt said. “Marcum had only been with the hotel for three months. The convention was the first he’d arranged, working with the locals. They all thought it would be a feather in their caps, so to speak. And then he ended up getting himself knocked off. Fine feather that is, I’d say.”

“Yes, well, what can you tell me about the cause of death?”

“He was shot all right, but died from the stab wound. You knew he’d been shot and stabbed?” The man went on without waiting for Tom to answer. “Sometime in the early hours, probably between three and five. No one about, not even cleaning staff. Man from the hotel catering service found him when they brought in the coffee, tea and such.”

“Any suspects?” Tom asked.

“Nah. Early days yet, though, right?” Colin chuckled.

“Had he made any enemies amongst the staff?” Tom looked around to make sure no one overheard him.

“None to speak of. We’re looking into his former employment. With a hotel up in Manchester, it was.”

“I know some of the blokes up there. Want me to have a word?”

“Yes, make yourself useful. Kinda short-staffed around here. I’ll put in a word for you with my Guv, tell him you’re unofficially working on the case.”

“Great, Colin. Shouldn’t be long before we get our man. Or woman.” Tom ended that call and put one in to a man he knew in Manchester, only to find he was on holiday on the continent.

#

Camille left before the talk was finished, found an empty chair in a corner of the lobby, and studied the notes she retrieved from the Oxford Room. Marcum had planned to introduce each of the presenters before their talks. As far as she’d learned, no one had. They’d each had to introduce themselves. She wondered how they were doing without Marcum to organize them. DSI Barnaby didn’t seem to have any problems with his talk earlier that day. 

She also learned that two of the speakers had canceled at the last minute, leaving Marcum with two hours to fill in the late afternoon. She found no indication he’d found those fill-ins. 

Jo Martinez found her as she pored over the last of Marcum’s notes. “Anything?” Jo pointed to the papers.

“Marcum wanted to introduce all the bigwigs he’d enticed to speak. No doubt to make him feel more in charge, but there are notations here that he still had to convince Miss Enfield to give him a larger budget for food and incidentals.”

“Judging by the meals we had, she came through on the food, but what did he mean by incidentals?” Jo took the top sheet and scanned it. “He doesn’t say.”

“I wonder what other enemies he made either among the presenters and attendees or the staff of the hotel.”

“I gather he only joined the staff recently. How could he already have enemies?”

Camille raised one eyebrow. “I’m sure you know from your work that it doesn’t take a whole lot.”

“No, of course you’re right. So how do we find out which of the many people in the hotel this weekend had a beef with Marcum?”

“We ask the staff, the maids and bellboys, the cooks, waiters and waitresses. Of course it could be one of them, but I don’t think Marcum would have bothered with any low level person.”

They set off to find a maid or bellboy to question. 

#

“When were you last in London?” Richard asked Henry again.

Henry pretended to think. “You know, it’s been so long, it’s hard to remember. There have certainly been many changes to the city since then.”

“When I first arrived on Sainte Marie, I wanted so badly to return to England. It was so hot, so sunny. But now? Camille had to convince me to come to this conference.”

Henry was surprised by the admission. “Are you glad you did?”

“Kind of a bus-man’s holiday, don’t you think?”

“I wonder why more of the attendees haven’t gotten involved in the investigation.” Henry watched as they scurried to and from the still ongoing talks.

Richard shrugged. “Perhaps they haven’t a clue that anything’s amiss.”

“Yes, you’re probably right.”

Tom Barnaby approached. “I’ve just rung up a former colleague who works with the forensics people here in London. They’ve confirmed the cause of death, the knife wound rather than the gunshot. In fact, that may have come postmortem.”

“Have they estimated the time of death?” Henry asked.

“Sometime between three and five in the morning, most likely based on the amount of lividity and the progress of digestion of his last meal. So whilst everyone was sleeping except for him and his killer, they met in the Oxford Room.”

“But why would he go there so early in the morning? What would lure him?” Henry asked.

“Yes, that’s what we should determine.” He stepped closer. “Would you two gentlemen be open to a bit of sleuthing?”

“Would we?” The grin on Richard’s face made him look younger. “Tell us what you have in mind.”

“First we should find out whether any of the attendees had a previous connection to Marcum.” 

“What about the staff?” Henry asked.

Tom waved that away with a hand. “We’ll get to that. He hasn’t been here long, but he might have known any of them before.”

“That’s a lot of people.” Richard’s grin disappeared.

“I have an idea.” It was Henry’s turn to smile. “We can speed up the process by suggesting that anyone who knew him should speak at his funeral, but we’d need names ahead of time, so they should let us know.”

“And that will draw out those who had met him before. Brilliant.” Tom slapped him on the back. “We should make the announcement at dinner. My wife and daughter canceled on me, some performance they were mad to see, so I’m afraid you’re all stuck with me for the evening.”

“I expect someone will be making sure everyone knows about Marcum’s death,” Richard pointed out.

“What else have the two of you learned?” Tom asked.

“No joy on my part,” Richard said. “The people I knew either retired or weren’t in since it’s the weekend. I’m glad you were able to make contact.”

“Yes, well, unfortunately Colin Wyatt isn’t working this particular case.”

“The women should arrive soon.” Henry glanced at his watch. “I wonder what they’ve learned.”

“Shall we find a place to sit while we wait?” Tom asked. “I haven’t been on my feet for so long for quite some time.”

They found a cluster of armchairs near the entrance to the dining room, but weren’t sitting long before Jo and Camille arrived, each carrying several sheets of paper.

“I was able to retrieve Marcum’s notes.” Camille shook her handful. “They give a good picture of a man who was anxious to make a name for himself using this conference as a stepping stone.”

“And he may have stepped on a few toes in the process,” Jo went on. “Alfie, the bellhop heard him having an altercation with Miss Enfield yesterday afternoon, and one of the maids reported incidents where Marcum changed the rooms assigned to the more distinguished guests, much to Enfield’s consternation.”

“You don’t say.” Tom clasped his hands in his lap.

“Oh, there’s more,” Jo handed him her papers. “He was also keeping a list of the staff who he felt were rude to him or put obstacles in his path, including Mr. Langley, the hotel owner.”

“So there are a number of people with motive.” Tom smiled at each of them. “I believe we’ll have to question those Marcum named in his notes.”

“Should we enlist the aid of some of the other attendees?” Henry asked. “How many names?”

“Eight,” Camille said. “But we’d have to be sure that any others we involve in our investigation aren’t themselves possible suspects.”

“Those eight are all staff. We haven’t even considered the guests affected by Marcum’s behavior.”

“Let’s start with the five of us and the eight staff members.” Tom stood and walked away from the dining room, rather than toward it.

“Wait.” Richard remained where he was. “I thought we planned to let everyone know about Marcum if Enfield didn’t. We can talk to Enfield after dinner, as well as anyone else on the list who’s there.”

Tom nodded and turned back. “We should go in while we can still claim five seats together.”

Together they entered the dining room. Other attendees were already in the room. “Over here,” Jo motioned them toward two tables near the podium at one end of the room. “We want to be near when Enfield speaks.”

They took turns going to the buffet for food, then ate as they continued their plans.

At six-thirty, Enfield showed up. She nodded to a few of the speakers, then sat at the side of the room with a plate of food as she consulted her cellphone. Finally she stood and made her way through the tables and chairs to the podium. She flashed a phony smile at the crowd and raised her voice. 

“The first day of this conference has been quite successful. We hope you all enjoyed the talks. We have more scheduled for you tomorrow. Thank you again for coming.”

“Is that all she’s going to say?” Jo asked.

Tom stood. “Miss Enfield, I believe you should share the news of Mr. Marcum’s demise.”

She frowned and squinted at him. “And you are?”

“I’m Tom Barnaby, a former DCI from Causton, policing the Somerset villages. I’m one of your speakers.”

“Oh, yes, of course.”

“Well? Many of these people would be interested to learn that Marcum was murdered.”

Gasps filled the room. Forks clanged on plates. One man stood so suddenly his chair fell over.

“What do you know about it?” Enfield’s icy facade was melting and her stiff posture was slumping.

“Oh, come now, Miss Enfield,” Tom went on. “ The local police have men stationed near the Oxford Room and a coroner’s wagon took a body away this morning.” He smiled at her. “You have a hotel full of professionals from police units all over the country, no, the world. Use us. I’m sure the locals would appreciate the help.”

“If they need help, they’ll ask.”

“Tell them we’re ready,” a voice came out of the back of the room, and was joined by another. “Yes. That’ll be more interesting than the lectures.” The second person looked toward the nearest speaker. “No offense.”

“None taken.” The man nodded.

All around the room, clusters of people talked about what they’d now learned. Enfield tried to make a getaway.

Tom approached Enfield before she could leave. Richard and Camille accompanied him. “A word, Miss Enfield,” Tom said.

“Haven’t you said enough?” She clutched her belongings and headed for the door.

They followed her and were joined by Jo and Henry, but she slipped away.


	4. Chapter 4

They spent the afternoon talking to more staff. Two maids confirmed the need to corner the hotel owner. Vincent Langley wasn’t working that day since it was Sunday, but he occupied a suite of rooms on the second floor of the hotel.

“If all five of use descend on him at once, he’s likely to be tight-lipped.” Richard cupped his chin in his hand tapping the index finger on his cheek. “Inspector Barnaby, since you confronted Miss Enfield, perhaps Camille and I should handle this one.”

“Be my guest,” Tom said. “As long as you share what you learn.”

“Of course. C’mon, Camille.”

She smiled. “Yes, sir.”

They headed for the elevators. Three other attendees approached Tom, Jo and Henry.

“Whot made ye suspicious that something untoward had happened ta Marcum?” asked a middle-aged woman in an austere black suit and displaying a decided Scots accent.

“The man was very invested in this conference,” Tom said. “It seemed strange that he would have upped and left just as it was getting underway.”

She nodded. 

“Have you talked to the local constabulary?” A small, thin man asked.

“They aren’t disclosing much as of yet. I learned second-hand that the knife wound was the mortal blow, rather than the gunshot.”

“I’m pleased ye said we’d all be willing ta help.” The woman held out a hand. “Heather McKenzie.”

“Miss McKenzie. I’m Tom Barnaby and these are visitors from across the pond, Jo Martinez and Henry Morgan.”

The two men introduced themselves, the short one David Adler and the other Michael Rowen. They’d come together from the Midlands.

“Did you speak with Mr. Marcum when you arrived?” Tom asked.

“Only briefly,” Adler replied. “He was glad-handing everyone, but ‘twere obvious he only wanted to speak with the speakers. To him, those were the important people.”

“He barely nodded my way,” Miss McKenzie added. “But I was verrry anxious to get to a rrroom and collapse after me jourrrney.”

Tom nodded. “We may need your help.”

“We’ll be in the lounge for a while.” Adler smiled and they walked away. 

“I’m surprised we haven’t gotten more volunteers.” Jo spotted Richard and Camille coming their way. “What did Langley say?”

Camille shook her head. “There wasn’t any answer. We came down here to find Alfie hoping he’d let us in.”

“I haven’t seen him since long before dinner.” Jo waited for the others to respond.

“I haven’t either,” Henry said. “I’ll go ask the reception desk staff.”

Jo went with him. “Don’t do anything dangerous. If they fish you naked out of the Thames, I don’t know how I’ll explain.”

“Do you see me doing anything that might get me killed?” They’d reached reception. “Have you seen Alfie recently?”

“He left not long after lunch. Something ‘bout his mum.” The woman behind the desk turned to a new arrival with a smile. 

“Maybe one of the maids will let us in. They’re more likely to have a master key than Alfie.”

“True. All right, let’s go find one.” Jo caught Camille’s eye as they walked to the elevator and motioned for the rest to join them.”

“Where are we going?” Richard asked.

“To find a maid to let us into Langley’s room.” Jo rubbed her brow. “Alfie left after lunch.”

They squeezed into the elevator with the newcomers and another bellboy, refraining from discussing anything until the group got off on the second floor.

“Would any of the maids still be around at this hour?” Camille peered down the long hallway.

“There are other ways,” Henry said. “Forget you heard that or saw what I’m about to do. Which door is Langley’s?”

Camille pointed to a door three down from where they stood.

Henry took out the card for his room.

“That shouldn’t work on any other room but yours,” Tom said.

Smiling, Henry slid it between the door and the jamb. The light on the card reader turned green, and he opened the door.

Langley lay in the middle of the mess in his room. He wasn’t breathing. Tom checked the pulse in his neck and shook his head. “He’s still warm.”

“He had to have been killed after the maid was in this morning.” Jo pointed. “The bed’s still made. Untouched, although the mattress was shifted.”

“What was the killer looking for, ransacking the room like this?” Henry asked. He knelt down to examine the body. “Hmmm.”

“What did you find?” Jo crouched near Langley too.

“There’s a puncture wound in his neck. I guess we should report this to the coppers in charge. Have the ME run a tox screen.”

“And how will you explain how we got in, or even what we were doing here?” Tom asked.

“The door was open.” Henry paused. “And we needed to ask Langley something.”

“Perhaps about one of the rooms?” Camille suggested. 

Papers were strewn all over the desk and more surrounded the body. Tom picked up a few and scanned them. “Before we call in the locals, maybe we can find something in all of this that will point to the murderer.” 

They took five minutes to go through the papers and found nothing. Richard picked up the room phone, called the front desk and reported they’d found Langley, dead, in his room.

“We don’t all have to wait to talk to the police,” Henry said.

Camille nodded. “Richard and I will go talk to Miss Enfield about this development. She’s still a likely suspect.” The two of them left.

“Unfortunately, we don’t have a motive.” Jo began opening drawers. “For her or anyone else. The altercations we heard about are too trivial.”

Tom nodded.

A man entered. “I’m DCI Jamison, in charge of this investigation. How did you find him? Why are you here?”

They gave him the story they’d agreed on, then left to join Camille and Richard. They found them in Enfield’s office. Her eyes were wide and her hand covered her mouth.

“We just told her about Enfield.” Richard said.

“What was your relationship with him?” Tom asked her.

“We worked together. More than three years now.” She sat heavily in her seat. “I can’t believe he’s gone too.”

“Alfie told us you argued with Marcum last night.”

Her mouth hung open and her brows drew together. “Argued? We spoke a few times about where to put all the attendees as well as the speakers for the conference, but we never argued.” She picked up her phone and spoke into it. “Send Alfie Flynn to my office.”

“We heard he left early, that his mum was sick.”

She put the phone down. “His mum? His mum’s been dead for over a year.”


	5. Chapter 5

Enfield continued. “Why, I just saw him as I was returning to my office. He was heading for the elevators.”

Henry frowned. “What time was that?”

“About an hour ago, perhaps more.”

“Do you still deny there were any problems between you and Marcum or Langley?” Tom asked.

“Yes. Most definitely. It was a pleasure to plan this conference with Marcum. He’d had lots of experience with meetings before he came to us and made valuable suggestions. And Vincent Langley? He was always willing to go along with everything I asked for. Frankly, I’ll miss them both.” Her eyes filled with tears.

Her phone buzzed, and she picked it up. She listened for a minute then said, “Well find him. Search the hotel. He has to be here somewhere.” She looked at them. “No one can find Alfie.”

They exchanged knowing looks. Tom said, “Thank you, Miss Enfield. We won’t take up anymore of your time. You’ll have your hands full without us.”

She nodded, but was gazing off into the distance, her damp eyes unfocused.

Once they were out in the hall again, Henry said, “Alfie?” 

Four heads nodded, almost in unison. “If he was headed for the elevators when Enfield saw him,” Richard reasoned, “he had opportunity to kill Langley.”

“But why?” Jo shook her head. “I mean, I would imagine he’d have something against Marcum, although we still don’t know what, but what was the connection between him and Langley? A bellboy and the hotel manager? What interaction might there have been?”

Tom’s eyebrows raised. “We don’t have access to any information that will answer those questions, but if and when we find him, he may tell us.”

“Without access through my computer to all my sources, I feel helpless,” Camille said.

“Not completely.” Richard pulled out his phone.

“Who are you calling?” she asked.

“Dwayne. He doesn’t only have contacts on the island, you know.”

“Good idea. Although it’s a Sunday afternoon there.”

“And I’ll call a few people in New York who might be able to help us.” Jo scrolled though her contacts on her phone as she walked away.

“We need background on two people, Dwayne,” Richard told his sergeant. 

Camille tapped his shoulder. “Three. Alfie, Marcum and Langley.”

“Right, three.” Richard gave Dwayne the full names. “As soon as you can.”

“There he is!” Henry started after Alfie who was head for the front doors of the hotel. “Stop him!”

The doorman looked at Henry as if he were crazy.

“Grab him. Alfie. Don’t let him get away.”

The doorman shook his head, but Enfield had sent word to the reception staff to find Alfie, so the woman behind the desk joined Henry in his race to stop the bellboy.

As Alfie cleared the doors, he collided with a package-laden woman and fell to the sidewalk. Joyce dropped her packages and tried to pull him up as Henry and the receptionist reached them.

“Alfie, are you all right?” Joyce said. “I’m so sorry.”

By the time a shaken Alfie had stood, the others reached them. They surrounded the bellboy.

“That was most fortuitous,” Tom said.

“Tom, what’s going on?” Joyce seemed bewildered.

Henry and Camille each held one of Alfie’s arms.

“There’s been a murder. Two, actually,” Tom replied. “And Alfie here is our culprit.”

While Jo helped Joyce retrieve her packages and introduced herself, the others escorted Alfie back inside to the waiting DCI Jamison.

#

They’d all gathered in the Barnaby’s room. Joyce had been introduced to the others.

“It seems that Marcum knew Alfie in Manchester.” Richard tapped his phone. “My sergeant found that Alfie had been dismissed from his post at the same hotel where Marcum worked last. Alfie had been stealing from the guests.”

Camille nodded. “Once Marcum recognized him, Alfie had to kill him.”

“And Langley saw him emerge from the Oxford Room,” Tom said. “He tried to blackmail Alfie, but of course that backfired. You don’t blackmail a thief and a murderer.”

“But why was Marcum shot and knifed?” Henry was always interested in the cause of death.

“Likely to confuse the situation.” Jo shook her head. “I want to know where he got whatever he injected into Langley.”

“We may never know that.” Tom smiled. “I never expected that today would turn out this way.”

“I’m almost sorry I missed the excitement, but I hope it isn’t repeated tomorrow.” Joyce had been putting her packages away and listening to their discussion.

“I do hope that you’ll come visit us in Sainte Marie,” Camille told Tom and Joyce. “Anytime you want a beach and sunshine.”

“That will be lovely,” Joyce said.

“As long as you promise we won’t be caught up in another murder,” Tom added.

Richard smirked. “I’m afraid we can’t promise that.” 

“Nor can we promise it if you visit us in New York.” Henry glanced at Jo, who nodded.

“Well, we’ll take both invitations up under advisement.” Tom chuckled and the rest joined him.


End file.
